Scorned Justice: The Men of Texas Rangers Series #3 (Men of the Texas Rangers)

by Margaret Daley

  Brody lounged back in his chair at the table for six. “I have to agree with Charlie.”

  Deputy U.S. Marshall Wentworth sighed and pushed to his feet, tossing down some money. “Which reminds me, I have a wife who hasn’t seen a lot of me lately. Y’all continue this celebration without me. I’m going to have my own celebration with my wife.”

  Rebecca gave the marshal a mock look of fright. “You mean I’m not going to have you following me around? I was just getting use to you or one of your men always being nearby.”

  Randall laughed. “I think you’ll adjust. Alexandrov is in jail. Petrov is somewhere safe. You won’t have anything to do with Alexandrov’s trial. That’ll be federal. And in the last two days, the FBI has rounded up quite a few members of his mob. It’s Friday. Enjoy the weekend.”

  As the marshal walked away, Charlie signaled to the waitress for the check. “This is on me. My life is going to be so much easier now.”

  But before the young woman could lay the bill on the table, Rebecca snatched it out of her hand. “No, it’s my treat. I owe each one of you. No telling what would have happened if not for you all.”

  “Our lives will be easier until the next big case or trial comes along.” Laura lifted her iced tea in a toast. “Here’s to people getting what’s coming to them. May Alexandrov spend many years in prison contemplating what he has done wrong.”

  “More likely he will be trying to figure out where Petrov is. I understand Petrov’s wife won’t be going into Witness Protection with her husband. Petrov’s choice, not his wife’s.” Charlie downed the rest of his coffee.

  “He doesn’t trust the woman. What kind of marriage is that?” Laura shook her head. “I’d rather be single.”

  Rebecca laid down the money for the bill, then stood. “People give up being able to trust others when they decide to go into that line of work. It certainly makes me glad I’m on the right side of the law.”

  Brody scraped back his chair. “Power and money is everything to them. Good night, Laura, Charlie.”

  As Rebecca weaved her way to the exit, she glanced at Brody. “This is the last day you have to take me home. I don’t know what it’s going to feel like driving myself around.”

  He chuckled. “It’s only been a couple of weeks. I think you’ll get the hang of driving yourself soon enough.”

  “I imagine I will. I like my independence.”

  Outside in the warm September evening Brody guided her toward his new gray SUV. “I know I appreciate my own wheels.”

  “Ah, so you know what I’ve been going through.”

  At the SUV, he opened the passenger door for her. “The one I’m worried about is Dad. He’s been enjoying himself at the ranch, especially with Hattie.”

  Rebecca waited until Brody had rounded the front of the car before saying, “I was going to say that about Hattie. I’ve never seen Hattie so dressed up just to stay around the house to cook and clean. I’m constantly catching them looking at each other. It’s not that they didn’t know each other before.”

  “True, but Hattie was married until five years ago, when her husband died.”

  “She deserves to be happy. She’s given so much to my family. When the girls’ mother died, she was there for them, especially when Thomas was so distraught.”

  Brody pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic. “What are you going to do now? Go back home? Stay at the ranch?”

  “Definitely stay at the ranch. I’ve decided to sell my house. Eventually I’ll get an apartment when my nieces are more settled. Hopefully because Thomas has come home. I think Tory appreciates me being there.”

  “I have some more leads to run down on the fire. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to stay at the ranch over the weekend.”

  Rebecca angled toward him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “I want to be satisfied you and the ranch aren’t in anymore danger from this cattle-rustling ring. An informant has come forward about a slaughterhouse that isn’t totally aboveboard. We’re raiding it tomorrow to see what we can find. Sheriff Overstreet is getting the warrant first thing in the morning. I’m going along on the raid.”

  “So this might be the end of the cattle rustling, too. How glorious. When I spoke with the doctor today, he seemed more optimistic about Thomas for the first time. The swelling in his brain has gone down. He’s been restless. I know he’s going to wake up. If we aren’t there, the staff will notify us immediately. I told them to call even if it was in the middle of the night.”

  “That’s great news.”

  “I’m going to spend tomorrow afternoon taking the girls to see their dad, then on a special outing. You’re always welcome to tag along. I may have withdrawal symptoms without my bodyguard around.”

  “Ma’am. I can accommodate you after the raid,” Brody drawled, then gave her a wink.

  She blew a long breath out. “For the first time in weeks, I can finally relax. I’ll probably sleep for twelve hours.”

  “We have about forty minutes. Take a little nap. I have a feeling that when you get back to the ranch you’ll have a couple kids hanging off you, wanting your attention.”

  “So true, but their aunt doesn’t mind.” She laid her head on the back cushion, her eyelids closing.

  Brody entered the interview room at the sheriff’s office and plopped a folder down on the table in front of the suspect. “We’ve been busy gathering lots of evidence against you and your men this morning. Your place of business was very accommodating to us.” Across from the husky man whose weathered face aged him ten years, Brody leaned forward, towering over him. “You will be convicted of cattle rustling, especially since one of your crew was forthcoming with us.”

  Ethan Johnston sat stiff in the chair, his thick, dark eyebrows crunched, his glare glued on a spot to the left of Brody.

  “Why did you come back to the Circle S Ranch and set fire to the south pasture?”

  Not a muscle moved—it was as if Johnston was paralyzed. No indication he had heard the question.

  Brody settled into the chair across from the suspect. “I can make this easy for you, or hard. We’re interviewing your three men as we speak. One has already admitted to what you all are doing. It won’t be long before he or one of his buddies cops a plea. I want to know about the fire. I want to know who you’re selling the meat to. I’ll be generous to the person who gives me that information.”

  Johnston’s glare swung to Brody. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You can’t pin something on me that I didn’t do.”

  Brody spread the papers they had gathered at the slaughterhouse. “Your own papers tell us otherwise.”

  The man flicked his gaze at the evidence. “I’m talking about the fire. I didn’t have anything to do with that. I want my lawyer.”

  “Fine. I’ll be glad to give you a phone to call your lawyer. No information, no deal.” Brody shoved his chair back and rose, snatching up the folder.

  When he left the interview room, Sheriff Overstreet turned toward him. “Good thing we don’t have to depend on him. The case is coming together quite nicely. His crew isn’t very loyal.” The corners of his mouth dropped down. “But all of the other suspects are saying the same thing. They don’t know anything about a fire at the Circle S Ranch. They said their boss is the only one who knows where the meat is going.”

  “That’s what Johnston said. They didn’t set the fire. Otherwise, nothing else.”

  Sheriff Overstreet massaged the back of his neck. “I’m beginning to think they didn’t do it. Someone else is responsible for the fire.”

  His gut churned. “You may be right. If that’s the case, then it is mostly likely Alexandrov’s minions. It’ll certainly be something I’ll be chatting with him about. As I dig into his businesses and life, I’ll be looking for evidence to support his guilt.”

  “At least the cattle rustling will stop. I know some ranchers who will be glad to hear that.”

  “Rebecca will be
. I’m heading to the Circle S right now. I’ll let her know we’ve caught the rustlers.”

  But as Brody left the sheriff’s office, that nagging feeling he got when something didn’t quite fit together kept bothering him. He kept running some of the facts from the crimes committed recently through his mind, trying to make some kind of sense out of them. It had been a long shot that they could get DNA from the vomit found in the alley near the pawnshop, and they hadn’t been able to. Although at first glance similar, the murder of the witness found in Rebecca’s bed had a different feel than the guy killed behind the pawnshop as if someone had heard about the man in the alley and had tried to copy the murder with the witness, blaming the Dos Huesos Cruzados Gang, or at the least had tried to throw off the police to what was really going on. They might have the witness’s killer, but he thought there was another killer out there. Another member of the mafia or the gang? Or someone entirely different?

  What if everything goes back to Thomas and his “accident”?

  “Why all these questions about Thomas?” Rebecca asked Brody as they got off the elevator later that day at Mercy Memorial Hospital. She glanced down the hall toward her brother’s room. “Why is the officer still outside of Thomas’s room?”

  “I’m taking another look at the things that happened to Thomas and his ranch.”

  She stopped and moved to the side to allow an orderly pushing a wheelchair to go by. “The cattle rustlers struck a couple of other ranches. Not just the Circle S. We found no evidence that Thomas’s accident was anything but that. Nothing in his blood work. No wounds that don’t fit with what happened to him.”

  “But as I told you earlier, the fire wasn’t started by the cattle rustlers.”

  “Because they said so. How many criminals have denied doing something?”

  “I’m still trying to link them to the arson, but I’m also looking at other possibilities, including Alexandrov’s ordering the fire. But to tell you the truth, something isn’t adding up.”

  She wanted it over with. “Is this your cop instinct on overdrive?”

  “Humor me. I want you safe.”

  “Alexandrov is in jail, along with a lot of his men. There’s no reason for him to go after me now that the trial is over.”

  “Why was Peter Ivanov killed? We can’t link it to either the Russian Mafia or the gang.”

  “Exactly. If someone was after me, they certainly wouldn’t have any reason to kill Ivanov.”

  At the end of the corridor where Thomas’s room was located, a flurry of activity drew her attention. A nurse went in, and soon the staff doctor was striding toward the same destination.

  “Let’s go. Something is happening with Thomas.” Rebecca hurried toward the room, and the officer opened the door for her.

  Inside, Tory stood off to the side with an arm around each stepdaughter. They had come to see Thomas while Rebecca waited for Brody to return from the sheriff’s office.

  Kim stretched her neck and leaned around the nurse to look at her dad. Rebecca shifted her gaze to her brother. He lay there with his eyes closed just as he had the past couple of weeks.

  The doctor tested the reflexes on the bottom of Thomas’s feet. His toes curled down.

  Rebecca moved closer. “What’s going on?”

  “Dad jerked when I hit Aubrey, and she screamed. I was sure he opened his eyes.”

  The doctor lifted her brother’s eyelid, shining a light into his eye. “His pupils react to the light. That’s good. His reflexes are normal.”

  Using his knuckle, the doctor pressed into Thomas’s breastbone. Thomas flinched as though trying to get away from the doctor.

  “Good. He’s feeling pain. Mrs. Sinclair, I think your husband is coming out of his coma.”

  Aubrey and Kim cheered—loudly.

  Thomas shifted, attempting to roll toward the sound. Rebecca’s breath seemed trapped insider her lungs. Then her brother went still. Slowly, she released her breath and nibbled on her thumbnail.

  “He’s gonna wake up. He’s gonna wake up.” Kim jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

  “Child, this is a hospital. People are trying to rest,” Tory said, putting a restraining hand on the ten-year-old.

  Her niece peered up at her stepmother and wiggled from beneath the grip. “Sorry. I’m just so excited.”

  Tory smiled at Kim, the corners of her mouth quivering. “So am I, but it may take a while before he’s fully awake. Right, Doctor?”

  “Yes, it could. But hold on to the news that he is much better.” The doctor started for the door with the nurse. “If anything changes, let us know.”

  For the next hour, Rebecca sat on the couch, sandwiched between Kim and Aubrey. Tory paced the room, stopping by the bed every few minutes to see how Thomas was doing. But there was no change.

  “He hasn’t moved in a long time,” Aubrey cried out, sticking her thumb into her mouth and sucking on it. She pressed her face against Rebecca.

  A knot of emotions jammed Rebecca’s throat. She swallowed several times before she replied, “It will take time.”

  Tory came to the child, knelt down in front of her, and took her hands. “The waiting is the hardest. Why don’t you let your Aunt Becky take you home where it won’t seem so long? I’ll call the minute anything changes.”

  “I don’t wanna go.” Aubrey hunkered down closer to Rebecca. “Do I hafta?”

  Rebecca looked at Tory, whose eyes held a dull shadow and whose hair was not its usual well-coiffured style. Instead, it fell in messy waves about her pale face. Rebecca remembered the agony of waiting to hear about Garrett. Not knowing what was going to happen. Praying for the best.

  “We’ll wait a little longer, then we’ll have to leave. What do you think, Tory? Half an hour, tops?”

  Relief fluttered in her sister-in-law’s eyes. “Yes, that sounds fine.”

  “That way we’ll get back to the ranch and you two will still have time to tend to your horses. You know how much they look forward to seeing you all.” Rebecca hugged the girls to her.

  “Yeah, I bet Princess has missed me,” Aubrey mumbled around the thumb still in her mouth.

  Rebecca stared at Brody sitting in a chair on the other side of Thomas’s bed, with his legs stretched out in front of him, his cowboy hat pulled down low, veiling his expression. This whole time he’d been unusually quiet. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d fallen asleep. She’d gotten up in the middle of the night, and he’d still been downstairs, prowling the rooms as though on guard. She wasn’t sure how much rest he’d gotten, but it couldn’t have been much because he’d been up when she went to the kitchen in the morning. He was at the table nursing a mug of coffee, and seeing the half-empty pot, she could tell it wasn’t his first cup.

  When half an hour had passed without any kind of movement from Thomas, tears filled Aubrey’s eyes. “I want my daddy to wake up.”

  “I know, Sweetie. We all do. Remember, God has picked the perfect time for him to wake up. His body is healing while he sleeps.”

  “Why is God being so mean to us?” Kim asked—the first words out of her mouth in over an hour.

  Aubrey burst out crying. “God hates us.”

  Brody sat up straight, pushing his hat up on his forehead.

  His and Rebecca’s gazes touched briefly before she pulled Aubrey closer to her and patted her back. Aubrey’s wails resonated through the room. “Honey, God is love. He would never hate you. Ever.”

  “How do you know?” Kim asked, a wet track streaking down her face.

  “In here I know,” Rebecca placed her hand over her heart. “He’s always with us even when we’re hurting.”

  Aubrey turned her face up to Rebecca. “Why does he let us hurt? My heart aches, Aunt Becky. I don’t want it to.”

  “Neither do I, but God lets people make their own choices. Sometimes when they do, they get hurt. But he doesn’t abandon us, or get mad that we didn’t make a better choice. He’s there, loving us through the hurt.�
��

  “Rebecca,” Brody called out.

  She looked toward him. He pointed at Thomas.

  When her gaze lit upon her brother, he was staring straight at her.

  15

  Tory rushed to the hospital bed before Rebecca could get up from the couch. “Thomas, you’re awake!” Clasping her husband’s hand, she hovered over him.

  Rebecca let the girls run to their father while she hung back, tears coursing down her face. Brody came to her side and held her against him.

  “Daddy, we missed you.” Kim grasped Thomas’s other hand while Aubrey tried to climb up onto the bed.

  Tory stopped her. “You might hurt him.”

  Thomas blinked, his gaze roaming from one person to the next. When it fell on Rebecca at the end of the bed, his forehead wrinkled.

  “Honey, do you need anything?” Tory pushed the call button.

  He mumbled, “Water,” in a dry, raspy voice.

  Tory poured him a glass from the pitcher on the bedside table, then held the straw up to his mouth for him to drink. He took a couple of sips before his eyes closed, his head rolling to the side.

  “Daddy,” Aubrey cried out.

  Kim shook his arm. “Wake up. Don’t go to sleep.”

  Tory set the drink on the table. “I’ve been reading up on patients coming out of a coma. This is perfectly normal. They still need rest and will go in and out for a while. We need to let him get the sleep he needs. Okay, Kim? Aubrey?”

  Both girls nodded their heads but still held onto their father. Rebecca settled her hand on each niece’s shoulder. “Let’s go home and take care of the horses. I know Angel Fire could use a good ride. How about yours?”

  “But what if Daddy wakes up again?” Kim swiped at the tears that flowed down her cheeks.

  “We’ll be back tomorrow. Each day he’ll get better and better and be able to stay up longer. But only if he gets the rest he needs, like Tory said.” Taking their hands, Rebecca moved toward the door, with Brody following.

  Out in the hall the girls wrapped their arms around Rebecca. Her heart expanded, and her throat closed with emotion. Over their heads she stared into Brody’s eyes, knowing exactly how her nieces felt. She wanted Thomas awake, reassuring them that he would be all right.